Brighton Place
by girlmoustakis
Summary: There is a haunted hotel in England with a room that should NEVER be opened. Someone did.


BRIGHTON PLACE

By

HENRIETTE PRUGER

I am telling this story in the first person because I am now deceased.

But I jump ahead; let me start at the beginning. My name is Louise and I was born in Brighton, England. Brighton is a small seaside resort town on the English Channel. It is Britain's youngest city, awarded city status for the current millennium. Formerly called Brightelstone, it went from a small fishing village until the Royal Pavilion was built 200 years ago. The Pavilion is the most eccentric Royal residence due to its unique design. Former AND current famous residents were AND are The Prince of Wales and George IV.

Although Brighton is small in size, it is known for its piers and beaches. The beaches are just part of its beauty. There is night clubs and diverse shopping. Restaurants types vary but you can still get fish and chips at Brighton Pier. The pier has fairgrounds rides, candy floss and rows of striped deck chairs. There are also theatres, museums, an aquarium, a race course, a large marina and art galleries. We are a true tourist trap and our income depends on it.

The town was founded by the Brighton family in the sixteenth century. They owned all the above mentioned land. Residents were serfs until the middle class was born. In time, they TOO became property owners. But that took many centuries.

The first prominent Brighton was an eccentric millionaire named Lord Albert Brighton. He built the once former huge estate which became my home, Brighton Place. The family made their money in ship building and later the slave trade in America. This lasted a few hundred years. With the collapse of the medieval social structure and the decline of the slave system, pieces of land were lost and a formal town was created. Their only remaining property was their home, BRIGHTON PLACE.

Brighton Place stands atop a tall hill overlooking the bay. At first glance it appears as a large red dot against the hill. It is only when you get closer to the bay can you see how large it really is. It over compasses it's neighbors. At one time a large fortress wall surrounded the property. During the late middle ages it was guarded by sentries who protected the surrounding village. Since then the wall and sentry posts have come down and a town was created. Brighton, England was born.

From the shore Brighton Place dominates a full eyes view. It is a large, beautiful Victorian mansion. It stands three stories high with eight white marble Greek columns in two rows. The columns span the full three stories. Atop the roof, on each corner of the building, are multiple gargoyles. The windows are casement. They are surrounded by white ornately cut frames, extending way past normal perimeters.

A full curved driveway encompasses the front entrance. This is where the buggies once sat. Now there is a car park in the back. This was the former stables. Around the driveway is a small patch of well taken care of flowers. The doorway consists of two large wooden ornately cut doors. A large lion's head knocker is over one door. Brighton Place has been the prize of Brighton shoreline, and it still remains. It's just as beautiful now as it was five hundred years ago. This was their home for many years, but through the years they amassed heavy debts. So, in the 1920's it was converted into a hotel. This is where my story begins.

In 1932 my parents bought Brighton Place and became the first non-Brighton family innkeepers. I was too young to understand the negotiations but I was told it was a rather odd financial deal at an unbelievable price tag. It was cheap, under ONE condition. No one was allowed to enter the nursery on the third floor under ANY circumstances. All the other rooms were fine. I was also told this and I never went in…..at first.

The nursery was on the third floor at the end of the hall. It had two large beautifully decorated French doors. On the doors were colored chiseled pictures of horses in full run and crystal door knobs. Behind the doors were heavy red velvet curtains. This made it impossible to get a glimpse of the inside. All mother was able to do was keep the doors free from spider webs. That way it wouldn't attract attention of the hotel guests.

My story begins in World War II. Our guests were limited. At this time we only had two guests and a live-in boarder. Our boarder was a middle-aged German man who had come to Brighton Place after World War I. As a guest, he always kept to himself. There was always an air of mystery around him. He did and didn't fit in; but everyone liked him. He was always very protective of the town and especially us. All I knew about him was every year he would go to Switzerland and come back with chocolates. I often wondered why he went so far when he could get them in a store. No one in town could say his last name correctly so we all called him the Professor. My parents were the only ones to call him by his first name, Karl.

Karl wasn't a teacher but he was very smart and my second tutor. I knew him as a child and considered him my uncle. His attachment to our family was very strong. I learned more from him than from my formal schooling. I thought I knew everything about him but I later found out I was mistaken. But again, I jump ahead.

The only other guests at the time were a local newlywed couple, the Walkers. Mr. Walker was due to enter the army in a couple weeks so we left them alone. Many men from the village who went to war didn't return. Their time was sacred. My own father was at war. We only saw the couple at meals.

My parents and I lived back in the servant quarters. It gave us our privacy and easy access to the guest rooms. We didn't even eat in the main dining room on the first floor; we ate in the kitchen. The hotel was for the guests and not us. That was perfectly fine with us.

My only other friend was a local boy named Peter Larson. We grew up together and he was like a brother to me. Everyone in town kept telling us we would end up marrying but that seemed like nonsense. I was a young tomboy and the last thing I wanted was a romantic relationship. We would spend most of our time together climbing the rocks by the beach and collecting sea shells and interesting pebbles.

My involvement with the nursery truly begins in 1942. I was eleven and Peter was twelve. We were walking on the rocks. It was almost dinner time and the sun was going down. There was a sharp sea breeze coming off the water. I saw a shell, bent down and picked it up.

"This is a pretty one, Peter. The colors run into each other", I said.

"There's more over there," he replied, picking up another shell.

"It was the storm last night. The waves bring them in."

"With the waves more will come in. Give it a few more hours and we will have a boatload," he added.

"I can't stay out late today. Mother wants to talk to me about something special," I replied.

"You already know about sex."

"It's not sex. It's something very different. I asked what it was but she said she would tell me when she was ready."

"It's a family thing," Peter added.

"No, the Professor and the Walkers will be there. It's a hotel thing. It must be."

"Are you worried?" he asked.

"No. I just hope I didn't do anything wrong. I even stopped asking about the nursery."

"How is the nursery? Do you still hear noises?" he asked.

"All the time and it doesn't make sense. The room is locked. Mother has the only key."

"It's probably haunted."

"There's no such thing as ghosts," I commented.

"Then explain why the lights are on in the room. Look." Peter said, pointing to the house.

I looked up and saw the lights were INDEED on.

"That can't be. It has no electricity," I said.

"It does now. There are even people in there, at least three," Peter added.

"Maybe it's mother. That could be why they want to talk to me. The lights just went out. What time is it?" I asked.

"About seven. Your mother should be calling soon."

Peter was right. A few moments later I saw her on the porch calling my name. I looked at him.

"I better go. Same time tomorrow?" I asked.

"Sure, tomorrow we'll try the other side of the pier."

I picked up my shells and stones and ran to the house. It took me a few minutes to reach the road and long driveway to the kitchen entrance. I looked down at my shoes and they were soaked. I took them off before I entered the hotel. Mother always insisted on clean floors, even in the kitchen. She said it was the first thing a customer would notice.

As I entered, Mother led me to the kitchen table. The Walkers and the Professor were already seated. I cautiously sat down. Mother cleared her throat. I felt like I was going to get it.

"How were the rocks?' she asked.

"Fine. The storm last night brought in a lot of shells," I answered.

"They always do" she commented. "I sure you're wondering why I called you here."

"Did I do something wrong?" I asked.

"No. I wanted to tell you about some new changes that will affect most of us. As you know Father is at war. I am in charge of any major decisions involving the hotel," she began.

"Is he all right?" I asked.

"He's fine, I hope. This is not about him. You know we are at war with Germany."

"Yes?'' I replied.

"I will let Karl continue." my mother said, turning the platform over to him.

"Louise, you know Hitler is a bad man. He wants to destroy our way of life. He has started with London. He is bombing it and the surrounding country side. He calls it a blitzkrieg. It's just a matter of time before he hits us," the Professor said.

"Should I be scared?' I asked.

"Very.", he continued. "Yes and no. But your mother will explain that.''

"As you know I was at a meeting last night with all the innkeepers," she added."We had to come up a way to help the homeless. So we decided to suspend hotel activities and provide shelter for them. This hotel, and others, will take the people who were bombed out," she continued.

"For how long?' I asked.

"For as long as the war goes on. It should end soon. The Americans have joined the fight. They will end it quickly," she concluded.

"What will I have to do?" I asked.

"I need you to be patient. Our privacy will be affected. Your days at the rocks with Peter will be few. I will need your help. Do you have a problem with that? It wouldn't matter if you do. My mind is made up," she finished.

"I will do whatever you need," I replied.

"Good girl. I knew you would say that. And now, on to OUR major issue. I don't know if you've noticed but Karl and I have been spending time in the basement lately?" she continued.

"Yes, I have," I replied.

"We were working on a special project. We were building our OWN bomb shelter. You remember the old wine cellar in the back?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Karl and I have built a room. It's small but it can hold a few people. It has a door with a lock. This is the best part. It's hidden unless you know where it is. We will be safe during bombings. It has everything we need, food, water, sleeping bags-and this is the MOST important," she continued.

"We built it near a pipe. Through it we can hear everything that happens upstairs. If there is a home invasion, we will know when it's safe to go upstairs," the Professor added.

"Will the Germans break in? I asked.

"We are the first thing you see as you enter the bay. The Germans loves to break and plunder. We can't spare our possessions but we can save our lives," mother continued.

"I understand."

"Will you have room for the people in the nursery?" I asked.

"There are no people in the nursery. It's locked," she answered.

"There was tonight. Peter and I saw them by the rocks. The lights were on and there were three people. Was that you?" I asked.

"Yes, that was us," she replied quickly, lying and trying to hold her concern. "Would you like to see the room downstairs? We've just finished it. It's not a suite but it will be our home in air raids and anything else that will happen," mother asked, comfortingly.

"Okay."

"Good girl. Now put on some dry shoes. We'll be right here," she said, standing up from the table.

I stood also and walked to the door. As I reached it the conversation went on.

"Do you think she understood?" the Professor asked.

"She's a bright girl. It's a shame she had to even be told. I just wish she didn't mention the nursery," mother said.

"Don't worry. She'll forget when the action starts.''

I walked out.

…..

I went with them to see the bomb shelter. It was just as mother said. The Walkers stayed upstairs and we could hear them. They walked throughout the hotel and their footsteps and voices could be heard. I looked around and saw some buckets.

"What are the buckets for?" I asked.

"We didn't have time to build a loo. It would involve telling others and we wanted to keep this OUR secret," mother answered. "Peter must NEVER know."

"He won't tell," I said.

"People can become mean when they're scared. Your best friend may become your enemy. Promise me you won't tell him," she asked.

"I promise."

"Let's go back upstairs. Supper is ready," mother concluded.

We went back to the kitchen.

….

We didn't have to wait long to use the room. I was asleep when a strange loud siren was heard. I got up just as mother ran in.

"It's time. Let's go. Grab a robe and slippers and follow me," she ordered.

I did. Mother, the Professor and Mrs. Walker waited in the hall. I noticed her husband was not there.

"Where's Mr. Walker?" I asked.

"He's looking out the window. He'll be right here," the Professor answered.

Mr. Walker ran in.

"A small plane has landed. Four men got out. They're not ours and headed this way," he said.

"Why here?" his wife asked.

"We're the biggest hotel on the hill. We stand out," mother replied. "Let's go."

…..

We went to the bomb shelter. It wasn't long before footsteps were heard upstairs.

"They're here. Get in and lock the door," the Professor ordered. "This is going to be a long night."

"Mother, I'm scared."

"You'll be fine," she said holding on to me.

"Keep conversation to a whisper. They may hear us," the Professor warned.

Mr. Walker closed and locked the door. We all sat on the floor and waited cautiously. It didn't take long before he heard footsteps on the basement stairs. I saw the Professor counting with his fingers. He stopped at four. We all sat there in silence. The Walkers held each other. Mother smiled at me but it didn't work. I was still scared. I wished Father was there

The Nazis walked around the room. They didn't seem amused. I guess the cobwebs were of no interest to them. They walked over and stood by our door and stopped. There was little than an inch between us and them. The Professor reached for a box on the shelf. As he looked at my mother, he held on to it for dear life. I could tell she knew what was in it. She began perspiring and quietly praying.

The four men continued to have a conversation and the Professor listened intently. He was our ears and our interpreter. They came closer to the door and the voices became louder. The Professor started squeezing the box. Mother made a sign of the cross. It was just a matter of time before we were discovered. It seemed forever.

Then it happened. They started walking towards the steps. We heard a rat scurry by them. They shot it and laughed and went up the stairs. The Professor's face lightened up and he released his grip on the box. We had heard about Jews going into hiding in Europe. We never believed we would do the same.

"Are they gone?" Mother whispered.

"Yes, they found the basement boring." The Professor answered. "It was a smart idea to move the wine upstairs. They would have never left."

"I love you, Karl." Mother said.

"We all do." Mr. Walker echoed.

"The worst is over. Now we just wait. They were just a scouting party. They want to use this place for their headquarters. An old friend will stop that." The Professor added with authority.

Mother nodded because she knew what he meant. I did not and was confused by his statement.

"What if they burn the house?" Mr. Walker asked.

"They won't. Besides, it has too many valuables. That will keep them busy for a long time. We need to get some rest. We'll take two hour shifts. I'll take the first. By morning this will be over." The Professor concluded.

Time passed and the noises continued. They went floor to floor, room to room, breaking whatever they could find. They reached the kitchen. We could hear pans drop. A door opened and they laughed.

"They found the wine," mother said quietly.

"Now they'll never leave," the Professor added, sounding resigned.

I started to get sleepy. The last thing I remember seeing was the Walkers holding each other. The steps continued to the third floor. They opened up any door they could. They hit the Walker's room.

"Our wedding presents?" she said.

Mr. Walker shushed her. Another door opened. Mother's face went white. She looked at the Professor.

"The nursery," she whispered.

"Everything will be fine. Don't worry. This is almost over. Let's just wait it out," he whispered.

Time passed and we all were quiet. Eventually the sounds stopped. I woke up because I needed the bucket. Mother smiled at me.

"Good morning," she said, smiling.

"I have to pee," I said.

"You can pee upstairs. I think they're gone," the Professor said.

"How can you tell?" mother asked.

"They went into the nursery hours ago and the noises stopped. Trust me. The danger is over," the Professor answered. "Let's go upstairs."

"No, Karl. What if they're still here?' she asked.

"We won't go up alone," he said reaching for the small box he held onto before.

He pulled out three guns and took one, handing the other two to the Walkers and mother.

"I still have to pee," I said, again.

"Use the bucket and meet us outside the door," the Professor said, handing me the bucket.

The adults walked out leaving me alone. There is something to be said for privacy. I walked out as I saw them checking their guns.

"We stay in a group. It's safer. Three guns are better than one," the Professor commented.

….

We walked up the stairs cautiously and opened the door. What we saw verified what we had heard. It looked like a tornado hit every room. Mirrors were broken. Family pictures were side ways. Some were permanently destroyed. Mother was in tears.

"My poor hotel" she cried.

"You did say they like to plunder," the Professor added.

We went into the dining room to find it damaged. We went into the kitchen, also damaged. Next was the second floor. All the bedrooms were affected.

"This will take forever to fix. How could four men do so much damage? "Mother asked.

"Four men and wine," the Professor reminded her.

The Walkers came out of their room. Mrs. Walker was in tears.

"They didn't leave anything alone," she said.

"They're only presents. You are the most important thing to me," her husband said holding her.

"Let's check the third floor. Follow me," the Professor ordered.

We went to the third floor. The story was the same. No room was saved. The nursery door was slightly ajar. Mother hesitated before continuing.

"We can't go in there. We promised," she said.

"That's where we last heard them. We have to," the Professor said.

"We promised," she repeated.

The argument became futile when one of the Nazi soldiers fell out of the room with a look of terror on his face. We were all numb, except the Professor. He had a pleased smile on his face. He went to the soldier as he lay on the ground. The soldier rambled on in German as the Professor listened. Mr. Walker and mother held their guns on them.

"What is he saying? Mr. Walker asked.

"Gibberish," the Professor answered.

The Professor spoke to him in German and the soldier answered.

"It's what he saw in the room," the Professor continued.

"What did he see?'' asked mother.

The soldier withered gasped, spit and screamed one word in German and died violently. The Professor's face went white.

"What did he see?'' mother continued asking.

"Hell," he replied.

We were in shock. The shock was broken when the two French doors suddenly slammed shut and locked. Mr. Walker tried to open them but they were frozen shut. Meanwhile Karl read the soldier's dog tag. He looked up at mother.

"Our young man's name is Fritz," Karl said.

"What the hell just happened?" he asked, facing us. "What is in there?"

"It's difficult to say," mother answered.

"Forget the room. We have to get rid of the body first," the Professor said.

"How?" she asked.

"Leave that to me. By this time tomorrow, he and the plane will be gone. It will be like they were never here," he replied.

"What about the other three?'' Mr. Walker asked.

"They're probably in there. We may never know. The nursery won't let us in. We can't do anything else," the Professor added.

"What now?' mother asked.

"Start cleaning up. Louise and Mrs. Walker will help. Mr. Walker and I will deal with Fritz here. We'll go on. There's work to be done" he ordered.

The three of us left leaving the men with the soldier.

"This is one soldier that will never be found," the Professor said, looking at Fritz. "Call a few towns' men. We can't do this alone," the Professor ordered.

….

I was in my room the next day when Peter knocked. He entered and saw the damage.

"Boy, Fritz and his friends had a real party," he commented.

"You should see the rest of the hotel," I replied.

"They won't be here for long."

"What do you mean?"

"Look out the window."

I went to the window and couldn't believe what I saw. The townsmen had the plane attached to a boat. The plane was weighted down.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"They're sinking the plane. It's being weighted down. Father told me. They're going to do the same with Fritz."

"They can't. He deserves a Christian burial," I added.

"Nazis don't deserve Christian burials. They're animals."

"They were just soldiers. My father is a soldier."

"Would your father do this?"

I looked out the window again. A large boat dragged the plane off the pier, went some distance and dropped it. A few moments later it returned. The Professor walked up. He was carrying a large package over his shoulder.

"That's the Professor. What's he carrying?" I said.

Peter looked out the window.

"It's Fritz. See those strings? They're weights. No one will ever find him. He'll be fish food."

"But he had a family?" I protested.

"That's his problem," Peter said, shrugging it off.

"How can you say that?" I asked. I had never imagined such apathy towards another human being.

"That's why they call it war. Come on. I came to help clean up. Where do you want me to start?" Peter asked.

This is what happened the first time the nursery was opened.

…

Mother's prediction was right. The hotel did fill up with the homeless. If it weren't for ration stamps we wouldn't have been able to eat. The next few years were rough. Peter and I spent more time working than looking for shells. We had people everywhere, on every floor. The guests next to the nursery always complained about the noise. We said it was rats. It was a big old house. That was the last we heard of it. When one is homeless, you don't ask questions. Only a chosen few knew what the nursery was.

In 1945 the war was over. Everyone came home, including father. The Professor moved into a small cottage in town. Life was slowly returning to normal. It was spring and the hotel was ready to open again for business.

I was in my room when Peter knocked. I was 14 and he was 15. We had grown up physically but sexual feelings hadn't hit us yet. He was still my brother. I noticed he wasn't dressed for shell hunting. His clothes were too clean and proper.

"I hope you don't intend to hunt in those?" I commented.

"I'm not looking for shells today," he replied.

"Then what are you looking for?"

"Ghosts," he answered. "We are going to the nursery."

"With what key? Father has it hidden."

He pulled out a skeleton key from his pocket and dangled it before me.

"It helps to have a father who's a locksmith."

"Peter, I can't!" I begged.

"Why?''

"You know why. That room saved our lives in the war. We should respect its' wishes and leave it alone," I answered.

"Don't you want to know what's in there? I do. I have for years."

"No, I don't. We'll get in trouble."

"We won't. The hotel is closed. Your parents are in town. It's our only time. Now, let's go!" Peter demanded.

He grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the room and towards the nursery.

"Peter, stop! You shouldn't be doing this," I begged again.

"Oh yeah, watch me," he replied, boldly.

He let go of my hand and took the key from his pocket. From his coat he pulled out a torch.

"Care to join me?' he asked with a grin.

I paused for a moment.

"Oh, all right."

He knew I really wanted to know. He had always known me better than myself. We went to the door and he put in the key and turned it. The door creaked ajar and he went in while I waited outside nervously.

"What do you see?" I asked.

"Just a nursery. There are a few pictures and wait. There is something on the floor," he said shining the torch.

"What is it?"

"Come see for yourself."

I entered the room. Peter shone the torch on the floor to reveal the skeletons of the remaining three Nazis, still in uniform. Their loot lay by their sides. Their jaws were frozen open, in terror.

"I guess we found Fritz's friends," Peter remarked.

"Look at their faces. They're terrified. Let's get out of here. I'm scared," I pulled Peter as I begged.

"Not before I take a souvenir," he said, grabbing a framed photo off the dresser.

He took my hand and dragged me from the room. He then locked it. We were both numb.

"What do we do now? "I asked.

"You got me-".

"We can't just leave the bodies there. We have to tell someone."

"Who?" he asked.

"We'll tell the Professor. He'll know what to do. He got rid of the first body," I answered.

"That was the war. And the whole town was in on it," he reminded me.

"We have to see him. He can help. I know he can," I begged.

"Let's go," he agreed.

….

The Professor was working in his garden as we approached. He looked, stood up and smiled as we came over. Peter was hiding the picture behind his back.

"Well, if it isn't Romeo and Juliet?' he said.

"Stop it, Professor. We're only friends," I protested.

"If you say so. What can I do for you today?" he asked smiling, and knowing better.

"We have a problem and we need your help."

"What type of problem?" he asked.

"We were in the nursery," I answered.

"Nursery! How did you get in?" he asked.

"With a skeleton key. My father is a locksmith," Peter answered, not in the least bit ashamed.

"You always were a bit cheeky. And what happened next?''

"I took this picture," Peter said.

He showed him the picture and the Professors face turned white.

"You've lived here a long time. Could you tell us who they are? We've always been curious," Peter said, giving him the picture.

"This will take time. Come inside with me," the Professor replied, reluctantly.

We entered the small cottage. He went for a bottle and started to pour a drink.

"I'd offer you some but you're too young for this. To answer your question I need something strong," he commented, sounding resigned.

He looked at the picture again and put it down on a side table.

"Their names were Joseph and Mary, a holy couple they weren't. This picture was taken on their wedding day. But before I begin, you need a history lesson. How much do you know about the Brightons?" he asked.

"Not much. I just remember names and dates. The portraits are being repaired," I replied.

"The Brightons were a very wealthy family. You can see it by their home. It's no shack. Along with the ship building business, they had another financial venture, horses. They ran and bred prize horses. Everyone wanted a Brighton horse. The stables were in the back. It's now a car park."

"One of their most prized employees was a man named Mr. Rolf. He was the famous groomer and trainer in all of Europe. They all knew him by his first name, Rolf. The Brightons made him a good offer and he left Germany, his home."

"The Brightons had a daughter, Mary. She loved horses. She made herself his assistant. She lived in the stables more than her house. Rolf taught her everything he knew. She could ride better than any man. When she raced, you couldn't tell where she ended and the horse began. She was a wild and free spirit. Rolf loved her like a daughter."

"The family brought in a cook, Louisa. Rolf loved only one thing in life, his horses. He saw her eyes and the horses came in second. I was born. Rolf and Louisa were my parents," he said, with a smile on his face. "This if the first time I have told anyone this. It feels so good to get it off my chest."

"One day, the devil came to Brighton Place. He was Joseph Brighton. He came from poor relations and the two families had a bad relationship. He had two loves, the female servants and money. Whatever money he could get he would gamble away. He even went after my mother, but father put and end to that. Even the Brightons did what Rolf said, no questions asked."

"Joseph made Mary fall in love with him. He only loved her money. After the wedding, Mary changed. She became very depressed. Even the horses didn't help. By the time she became pregnant and couldn't ride anymore, it didn't matter. She had stopped riding long before. My parents knew there is something wrong but all they could do was watch."

"I still remember the day of the shooting as if it was yesterday. The year was 1902 and I was seven. Mary was seven months pregnant. She had found out and raced to the nursery where Joseph and his latest conquest would meet. His conquest was a young, innocent girl from a nearby town. No one remembers her name. It has long since been forgotten. She was only sixteen."

"I had been playing ball in the yard and came into the kitchen. I made the mistake of still bouncing the ball on the floor. Mother was making bread. She had the dough out and was adding flour. She scolded me in German. You see, the Brightons did not want marks on the floor. In that way, they are like your mother. I sat on a chair, waiting to be scolded by my father when he came in."

"Father came in from the stables. He was dirty and smelled of horses. Horse was his perfume, and ours. Mother spoke to him in German, and he scolded her. He used to say "Now, Louisa, we live in England. We must speak English"" he said with the same smile. His facial expression changed later as he told the rest of the story.

"As he approached to scold me, two gun shots rang out. My parents looked at each other in fear. They had known about the rendezvous but couldn't say anything. A third shot shortly followed."

"The nursery," father said.

"My parents ran upstairs with me following behind. Father reached the room first and saw the three bodies. Joseph and the maid were by the window and Mary was by the door, gun still in her hand. Mary had become mad. She killed them both and then herself and her unborn child."

"Mother ran in and saw them. Father told her to go and stop me from entering the room. She got out as I reached the hallway and stopped me by grabbing me. I wanted to see but she said I mustn't, in German. English had gone out the window."

"Father came out and closed the doors; but not before blood started running onto the outside hallway floor. His beloved Mary was gone. That was the end of the Brighton control over this town."

"Father contacted Joseph's family in London and they came. They said they would take care of everything, even the burials. They asked my father and his family to stay on, but father refused. The Brighton family wanted to stay in the horse business. Father refused because there was no one left to ride them. He got an offer in Germany, and we left. That is why I have this accent."

"The Brighton family sold the remaining horse and tore down the stables. It's now a car park."

"The rest you know. We lived in Germany until after World War I and came back. Hitler had started becoming stronger. Life became very ugly, especially for Jews. My family had to leave or die."

"You're not Jewish. You go to church," I asked.

"My mother was Jewish. The Brightons were one of the few families that would hire Jews. She came straight from a ghetto. My parents went to live in Switzerland, where they still live."

"That's why you always go there," I remarked.

"You think I go there just to bring you chocolate?" he commented. "They went to Switzerland. I came back to England, where I was born, right here in Brighton. I grew up in that house. I am by law, English. This is my second home. My parents were the only ones from Germany. "

"What happened next?'' I asked.

"The story goes the Brighton family locked up the nursery and stayed to keep the hotel going. The deceased Brightons had other ideas. They haunted the room, and the hotel. Things got so bad, the family knew they had to move and sell. That's where your family comes in. They found what you English call a fool, a, - What do they call it?" he continued.

"Sucker" Peter concluded.

"Exactly. They found your father.''

I resented that statement about my father.

" Your father was a good man but not very bright. They sold Brighton Place for a cheap price, with the restriction of NEVER opening up the nursery door. He fell for it. That restriction was put on you, as well, until recently," he said, looking at me disapprovingly.

"How do you fit in?"I asked.

"I came back after the war and met your father as a boy. He became a son to me. So, in a way, I raised you both. I was there at your parents wedding. I have been with your family since before you were born. I was so pleased when he named you after my mother. Your name may be Louise to others but you will always be my little LOUISA."

"I warned your father not to buy the hotel but he insisted. He wanted to make something of himself. Then the war began and he left. I moved in to protect you and your mother, help with the hotel-and PRIMARILY to make sure the nursery door stayed closed. Your mother and I, along with your father, knew the true story of that room. I told them about the shooting before the sale. It was our secret, until now. So little one, tell me what you saw?'', he concluded.

"It was just a nursery," Peter answered.

"And that's your problem? Just put back the picture and all will be forgotten"

"We saw something more," I said, pausing for a lack of words."-Tell him, Peter."

"We found the bodies of the other Nazis. They were still in uniform,-"." Peter added.

"They were only skeletons, but their faces were frozen, in fear," I added.

"They saw Hell in that room. So, why did you come to me?" he asked.

"We need your help to get rid of the bodies. You did before," I replied.

"We saw you through the window. We saw the plane go down and then you dumped the body," Peter continued.

"We tried so hard to keep it a secret," he said, sipping another drink.

"The whole town knew. My father told me," Peter added.

"Can you do it again?" I asked.

"Three bodies, and in clear day light? No. The only reason we could before was the war. I was protecting the town. If the Nazis found out where their plane went, they would come back. You don't want to be on the other side of a Nazi interrogation."

"Then you can't help us?" I concluded.

"I'll help you, but this time it has to be legal. That means telling your father, young lady. You broke a promise to your parents and the nursery. It was the nursery that saved our lives that night. I knew it would and I was right," he scolded.

"I remember, "I replied.

"We will remove those bodies, and this time we make sure that door STAYS closed. Come, let's find your parents," he concluded.

…

The Professor kept his promise. He told my parents and I was scolded, severely. But we still had to get rid of the bodies before the hotel reopened. This was arranged for the next day.

The next day we all stood by the nursery door. There were my parents, the Professor, Peter, me and a couple of constables with three body bags. Each constable came out with a full bag. This was repeated again in silence. The Professor looked at Peter. Peter walked into the room carrying the picture frame and returned without it. He turned and faced the room as the door closed by itself. The constables left and the Professor raised his hand and father nodded. Some workmen came with a barrel of bricks, paint and mortar. The Professor and father looked at me and Peter. We hung our heads on shame.

"This time we do it right," the Professor said as the workmen began their job.

This concludes the second time the room was opened. The next time was the last.

….

Everyone's predictions were right. Peter and I married. We had a son and the three of us would collect shells together. We stayed innkeepers. The nursery was still noisy but we always made natural excuses. Only the locals knew the truth and they stayed quiet.

Our son married and they had a daughter, Kate. Everything went fine until her parents were killed in an automobile accident. They were hit by a drunk driver. Peter and I raised Kate until Peter passed. I was left to be the only one raising her.

More years passed and the hotel industry changed. Competition moved in and it became harder to make ends meet. Our competitions were the Whitburn Lodge, the Oriental, Hotel Pelirocco, Myhotel and the Drakes. They ranged from small bed and breakfasts to the 80 room Myhotel. I wanted to stay in business so I decided to renovate. I chose a local firm, the Walker's Renovation. Ironically, it was run by Mike Walker, grandson of the newlywed couple that stayed at the hotel during World War II. Little did I know, I not only hired a contractor, but I was getting a grand son-in-law.

I gave Mike the hotel blue prints. With his help, we expanded our living space and entrance. Large bedrooms were shrunk, balconies added and bathrooms made larger and more luxurious. Windows were replaced to let more natural sunlight and enhance the view. The ocean view was breathtaking and the whole atmosphere of Brighton Place transformed into a gorgeous seaside resort. We were giving the other hotels plenty of competition.

There was only one room left, the nursery, and I told him the nursery door was not to be opened. It was hands off. HE had other ideas. The renovation was close to be being finished when I saw Kate and Mike by the paved up wall. I approached cautiously. I wanted to hear their conversation.

"Well, this is next," he said.

"I don't think you should. You know what Grandmother said," she added.

"She's just being superstitious. Whatever happened here was years ago. It's over now, if it ever happened," he commented, the last part under his breath.

"I still don't think we should touch that room. Even I have heard noises," she continued.

"It's mice. Or it could be the house settling. It is old. My firm spent plenty of time fixing the foundations," he continued.

"It's not mice. Something DID happen here. Why else would those soldiers die from fright?"  
she added.

"I don't know why they died. I know it isn't ghosts. Absolutely nothing happened here," he insisted.

"Yes it did," I added, coming up from behind.

Kate and Mike turned to me.

"Grandmother, I didn't expect you so early?" Kate commented, startled.

"I wanted to sit on the wedding conference with Reverend Taylor. It's not every day my granddaughter gets married," I answered.

"Do I still get the dress?'' she asked.

"After a few alterations. We have a meeting with a seamstress in town today after the church," I answered.

"I always wanted an old-fashioned wedding. With your dress and this house, I'll feel like a princess," she continued. "It will be the wedding I always wanted."

"This is an old house," I added.

"Not for long, Louise. I plan to open it up, completely. This room is my last step. When I open these windows, all you'll smell is the fresh sea air," Mike added.

"All you'll smell is EVIL air. This room must remain closed. I thought I made myself clear?" I added.

"You are a superstitious old woman, Louise," he commented.

"I saw it."

"As did my grandparents, as they were so fond of telling me," Mike added.

"Michael Walker, I have known you since you were a child. You and Kate used to play together, as did Peter and I. It's not surprising you should marry my Kate. Your grandparents were with us during the Nazi invasion. We have come full circle."

"So, you've told me often enough," he said, a little resentfully.

"Your grandparents and I saw that soldier AND the door closing. I am the only one left. We were not crazy and I am NOT superstitious. Something DID happen. That room MUST remain closed," I ordered.

"What should it matter to you? You live in town. The hotel will be ours," he added.

"What does it matter WHERE I live? Your lives will be affected. If you want to air out the floor, put windows on the side. What would it cost to break a few more walls?" I asked.

"This floor needs cross ventilation. Just think of the added sun light," he continued.

"No sunlight will come out of this room, only evil. You know the history. A woman went mad, killed her husband and his lover, and then shot herself. I beg of you, Mike, please reconsider," I begged.

"The answer is NO. I am opening up this ENTIRE house. It needs air, Louise. Kate and I want to LIVE here. We want to raise our children here. Brighton Place is a beautiful historic building. I want to bring it back to its original grace. Is that too much to ask?" he continued.

I sighed.

"I see there is no changing your mind. Well, remember this. You have to live here. I don't. This will be YOUR hotel now. I gave it to you as a wedding present. I trust you, Mike. You know your work and you have a good heart. Why else would I let you marry my Kate? I just worry about you and your future family. This room never gave us trouble as long as we left it alone. God only knows what you will open," I said, and proceeded to walk away.

"Louise?" he asked.

I turned.

"We're leaving for the church in an hour. Be ready," he said.

I turned and continued walking away. He turned to Kate and took her hand.

"Don't worry, love. Everything will be fine. She'll come around when the work will be done. We'll start tomorrow."

"Michael, can you please do it AFTER the wedding? Weddings are hard enough to handle without adding this?" she asked.

"All right, Kate. We'll marry, give it a few months and then we'll do it," he conceded.

He leaned over and kissed her.

….

The wedding went on without a hitch. Kate was a beautiful bride. The renovated formal dining room was converted into a chapel. She entered in from the hallway down the curved staircase wearing my own wedding dress. All I could do was cry.

Months passed and I was in my small cottage. It was the same one the Professor lived in. I always loved it and now it was mine. I could see, with no difficulty, why he loved it. The cottage always felt warm and reminded me of my old friend.

A knock came on the door. I opened it to find Kate.

"Kate, what a surprise. I didn't expect you so early," I said.

"I came earlier to see my grandmother," she said, smiling as she entered.

There's no law against that," I replied. "Can I get you some tea?"

"That won't be necessary."

"So, are you pregnant yet?"

"Grandmother! How could you ask that? Haven't you ever heard of birth control?"

"You have all the parts you need for the job."

"Really now. Give me time. You only had one and you were married MANY years.

"And don't forget the four I lost, "I added.

I sat down on the couch. Kate followed me.

"I loved my Peter. I would do anything for him. But the one thing he really wanted, I couldn't give him, a family. He was so happy when your father survived. I'll never forget his face when he first held him. He was complete. The only other time he had that look was when he first held you. He loved you both," I said, with a tear down my cheek.

"And we loved him. He was a good man."

"It broke his heart when your parents were killed. It was like a part of him died and never came back.

I took Kate's hand.

"Thank God, we still had you. He would have loved to give you away at your wedding. You were his little Kate."

"You still miss him?"she asked.

"Every day. It won't be long before we meet again."

"Grandmother, don't talk that way. You have plenty of years left. And you will spend them with us."

"Does that mean grandchildren?"

"Eventually, "she replied, smiling.

"Try to make it before I die. I would like to hold one of them."

"I'll try," she said, hugging me.

We parted.

"Now, why are you here? Surely you didn't come to discuss your reproductive organs?''

"You're right. I came to ask a favor."

"Anything for you."

"It's time for the nursery," she added.

I got up.

"Anything but that."

"Please, grandmother. Let's end this now. It's almost 100 years. I know you still have Peter's key. May we have it?"

I turned away from her. She still sat.

"This cottage once belonged to a man Peter and I asked for help. He did so, reluctantly," I said, turning to her. "I guess it's contagious."

I walked over to a small box on the fireplace mantel and picked up the key and turned. I then walked over to her and she opened her hand. I put the key in and closed it.

"You will regret this decision."

She stood up and started for the door.

"Thank you, Grandmother. Don't worry. This time we will do it right."

"That's what the Professor said when we sealed it up."

"Mike has even gotten Reverend Taylor to bless the room. We even have ten volunteer witnesses from town. What more can you ask for? The room and the hotel need peace."

"Your husband was right to send you. If it were him, I would refuse."

"And that would mean a locksmith. It would still be done. We will call you when we're ready. Will you come?"

"I have to. How else could I say I told you so?"

She came back, hugged me and left. I stood looking at the door.

"God be with you. God be with us all."

….

The day came and we met by the walled up nursery door. There were Kate and Mike, ten volunteer witnesses from town, a couple workmen, Reverend Taylor and me. The Reverend stepped up to the wall, said a few words in Latin and English, dispersed some incense from a lamp he was holding, and concluded by throwing holy water. He left nothing out. Mike made sure of that.

Mike signaled to the workmen. They raised two sledgehammers and began breaking away the wall. It only took a few moments before we were in front of the two French doors.

"So, this is the famous room?"Mike said. "It doesn't look so scary"

"It's what's inside that is," I replied.

He took the key from his front pocket and walked to the door.

"Here goes nothing," he said, turning the lock.

He opened the door and blast of hot air hit the floor. It was so strong I almost fainted. Reverend Taylor started to enter when Mike stopped him.

"Why are you stopping me?'' asked the Reverend.

"We can't go into that room until it is aired out."

He motioned to his two workmen. They entered with their sledgehammers and started breaking the windows.

"Don't worry, Louise. I'll be changing the windows anyway. Let's give it a few minutes and then enter," he ordered.

The workmen came out and we waited a few minutes. Mike signaled to Reverend Taylor and they both entered. He repeated the same ritual. From the inside, he called us all in. I was the only one who stayed outside. I just moved to the door close enough to see in.

The volunteer witnesses were confused and couldn't see what the excitement was about. It was just an old nursery. Kate touched the furniture and seemed quite pleased. Mike picked up the picture.

"This must be the Brightons?" he asked

"Yes it is," I answered.

"The room is actually quite charming. This furniture is a collection of gorgeous antiques. Look at the carvings on this chest drawers and this rocking chair. You can see the workmanship all over it. We could sell them for a lot of money," Kate added.

"Or move them to another part of the hotel. I'm sure I could find places for these," Mike said.

"And pollute the hotel with the curse?" I asked.

"Oh, Louise, come into the 20th century. This isn't Wuthering Heights. I see a walk-in closet. Let's see what's in there," he said.

"It's probably old clothes or toys." Kate added.

"Let's find out."

He opened the closet and three skeletons, wearing old-fashioned clothing fell out. Everyone jumped. The volunteers screamed. It was the Brightons and the unnamed maid.

"Dear Lord, It thought they were buried. Isn't that what your Professor said?" Mike asked.

"Yes," I replied. "Then he lied," Mike replied.

"Or was lied to. He said the family took care of the bodies."

"Why weren't they buried?" Mike asked.

"Maybe the family was ashamed. Either way, we will never know," answered Reverend Taylor.

I entered the room.

"This must be what the soldiers saw. No wonder they called it hell," I said.

"And these souls have never been at peace," Kate added.

"They will now, right Reverend? We found their bodies. Once they're buried, this will be over," Mike said.

"Yes, they will be at peace," the Reverend replied.

"Then all we have to do is find their grave sites and all this be ended," Mike continued.

"That will not be so easy. The church has old records, but some pages are lost and faded. So are some tombstones. It may be harder than you think. Plus there are the legal matters. A living family member has to okay the exhumation before we even try. It doesn't matter if our intentions are good. Then there's the matter of paying for the funerals. That is the family's responsibility."

"I didn't think it would be so complicated," Mike muttered.

"Then there are the death certificates to be made. Old stories don't hold up in court. It's much more complicated than you think."

"You're quite the authority," Mike added.

"Even I have to obey secular laws," the Reverend replied. "For now, let's put the bodies some place safe and then call the authorities and start looking," Reverend Taylor continued.

"I'll contact the remaining Brightons. There may be some family in London, last I heard. The authorities can take over from here," Mike concluded.

"Our job was much easier when it was just a haunting. I'm sorry but I don't see this being completed for some time," the Reverend concluded.

"We'll do what has to be done, no matter what it takes," Mike also concluded.

I didn't hear much of the logistics. I just stood, looking at the remains. Chills went down my spine. I suddenly felt a cold hand on my shoulder. I looked and no one was there. Then the lights went out.

Kate and Reverend Taylor came to me. I fell by the crib. As they held me, the crib started to shake. It felt like an earthquake. The cyclonic wind began. The volunteer witnesses and the two workmen ran out of the room terrified. Objects began to move, throwing themselves at Mike. Every thing from bricks to dolls flung themselves at him. He tried his best to duck the hurling objects. He didn't succeed.

"Get her out of here!" he cried.

"We're trying," the Reverend answered, starting to drag me to the door.

The picture of the Brightons flew across the room and hit Mike across the forehead. Reverend Taylor and Kate finally got me out of the room. I was a lead weight. Mike ran out right after them. As he turned, the three dead bodies on the floor started to rise. He and Kate both saw it. Mike slammed the door closed and locked it. All of us were frazzled and quite pale.

"The wind made them raise, right Reverend?" Mike asked.

"Where did the wind come from?" asked Kate.

They both looked at Reverend Taylor.

"Why are you looking at me?" the Reverend asked. "I've never seen this."

"How is Louise?" Mike asked.

"She's still out," Reverend Taylor replied.

"Get her into a room," Mike ordered.

"After you take care of your forehead. You're bleeding," the Reverend added.

Mike touched his forehead and then looked at his hand and saw the blood.

"Come with me to the kitchen. I'll take care of that. Reverend, the first room to the left is vacant," Kate said.

…..

The next thing I remember was waking up in a deserted guest room. Kate, Mike and Reverend Taylor were over me. Kate took my hand.

"You okay, Grandmother?" she asked.

"What happened?" I asked, still a bit disoriented.

"You fainted," she replied.

"Tell us what happened, Louise," Reverend Taylor asked.

"You two were talking logistics while I was staring at the bodies. I felt a cold hand touch my shoulder. I turned to see who it was. No one was there. And then the lights went out," I replied.

"Then you missed the party," Mike added.

It was then I noticed his forehead was bandaged.

"You're hurt?" I asked.

"All hell broke loose when you fell. Furniture started moving. Things flew around the room, all aimed at me," Mike added. "I was under attack."

"I wonder why?" I commented, smiling with relief that I would finally be believed.

"This was from the Brightons picture," he said, pointing to his forehead. "You can say it now."

"Say what?" I asked.

"I told you so," he replied.

"I will spare you that. You were warned. Now you have to finish what you started. You have no choice," I said.

"Will you help me?" Mike asked Reverend Taylor. "I've already lost my workers and volunteers. No one in town will help me."

"I'll do what I can," he replied.

"We all will," Kate concluded.

…

It took a few weeks to get permission from the family, but Mike got it. The bodies were sent to the morgue for the autopsies. We got permission to open the caskets. The hard part was finding them. We were at the church graveyard. The day was cloudy and very damp. There was a definite nip in the air. The day matched our intended deed.

Their lot was behind the church, in the oldest part of the cemetery. We all stood waiting for Reverend's orders.

"This is the Brighton family lot," he said.

"Why are the plots so unattended?'' Mike asked.

"The family has moved on. It's not like your lots where the families pay for regular maintenance. There's no one left in charge. We just come around and keep the grass down so the stones can be read. It's a big lot and most of the writing is faded. We all need to search. That is why I brought these," he said taking out some whistles.

"Whistles?", Kate asked.

"Whoever finds Joseph and Mary, call first," Reverend Taylor said.

"What about church records?" Mike asked.

"They're just as faded as the tombstones. We're all on our own," Reverend Taylor answered. "Let's begin."

He started handing out whistles but I refused.

"Not for me. I just came to see Peter," I said, and walked to his gravesite.

I walked away as they spread out. When I reached the gravesite I leaned on one knee.

"I'm back again, Peter. We're looking for the family. It's time to get them buried. Oh why didn't they leave that room alone? They don't know what they started. At least we left them alone. Do you realize after I'm gone, there is no one left to tell the story."

I heard a whistle. Mike was calling us all back.

"It's time, Peter. I'll see you later, my love. Maybe even sooner than you think," I said, getting up and walking away.

I reached them. They stood by a double grave. You could barely read the names.

"Are you sure it's them?" I asked.

"These are the only two with matching dates," Reverend Taylor answered.

"Let us begin," Mike ordered.

He motioned as the grave was being opened. It didn't take long until they hit two wooden caskets. One workman went into the hole.

"It's pretty old and brittle. It shouldn't take long to find out," the workman said.

Mike threw him a crowbar and waited. The sound of broken wood could be heard.

"What do you see?" Mike asked.

"It's empty. I'll try the other," he replied.

"Almost done, Louise," Mike added, smiling at me.

"You will never be done. You can bury the Brightons but what about the maid?" I asked. "Who will take care of her?''

"The family has agreed to pay for all the funerals," Mike answered.

"The other one is empty," the workman said from below.

"Come on up," Mike ordered.

"The maid has no name. What name will you use, the Maid? Would you like to be buried with no name," I asked.  
"You're getting silly," Mike said.

"You think she was mad before. Now she'll be mad, and alone. Your headaches just got worse."

"Grandmother, please-," Kate begged.

"Hasn't anyone thought of her feelings? I am an old woman and death may come and get me tomorrow."

"Louise, please!" Mike protested.

"Am I the only one who recognizes the importance of a name? I'm cold. I'm going home," I said.

"I'll take you," Kate said coming to me. "It's a bit nippy out here. You could catch your death,"

We walked off.

…..

I did catch a chill that day and it never went away. A few weeks later I joined Peter, but not before I saw the funeral. The nursery had claimed its last victim, me. This concludes my involvement with the haunting, but the story goes on.

Kate and Mike tried their best to be innkeepers. The haunting went from the quiet one I experienced to a fully fledged poltergeist. The maid's anger only grew worse and she took over the whole hotel. The hotel became famous. Everyone came to stay. It made more money in the next two years than the last ten years. There was even a book and movie offer. But all the money in the world couldn't help the disease.

A professional exorcist was called in. At first it seemed to work. Mike even made the nursery into his business office. But she came back a few months later. It became impossible to even have staff. Conditions became so bad; Kate, Mike and the children moved out and had to put the hotel on the market. This was the second time the hotel was empty.

It was never shown. Two weeks before its first viewing, there was a freak electrical storm and lighting hit the roof, right above the nursery. The fire that followed destroyed it in less than an hour. Brighton Place was gone.

A park stands there now. Our retired historian, Reverend Taylor, is the only one who recalls the Brightons and the haunting. The townspeople don't remember. They keep fighting for the tourist dollars. They just know a park stands on the intersection of Brighton St. and Hillside Ave.

As for me, I have found love with God, Peter and my departed friends and family. None of us know what happened to the maid. She never came to us. We don't know where she is. One thing for sure, she is STILL alone. May God have mercy on her soul.

THE END

33


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